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Henry A. Swanton 



WITH 

Illustrations 
BY THE Author 




1^^ 



The Coast of Maine 



and 

Other Verses 

by 

HENRY A. SWANTON 

With illustrations by 
The Author. 



I wrote a poem years ago 
Its meaning is obscure 

It isn't interesting, so 
I guess it's literature. 

Author Unknown. 

These are not poems, they're simply verse 
Some good, some poor. I trust none worse. 
I trust they'll be of interest too. 
Their meaning should be clear to you 
And as they are so new. I'm sure, 
They cannot well be literature. 

H. A. S. 



^,■^1^- 

■^^^^8* 



Copyrighted, 1922, 
By Henry A. Swanton. 



A copy of this little book may be secured 
by mailing fifty cents to 

Henry A. Swanton, 

Westport. Maine. 



ftUG 26 1922 



©C1A680963 



Contents 



VERSES OF THE MAINE COAST 

The Coast of Maine 

The Sheepscot Giants 
The Mermaid's Gift 
Our Winters 

The First Sea Urchin 

The Devil's Apron 

Captain Kidd's Gold 

The Tassel and the Cone 

West port 

Waterlogged 

The Starfish and Blueberry 

FARMER JOHN'S PHILOSOPHY 
His Cause for Thanksgiving 
On the Cost of Living 
He Gets "Het Up" 
On Neighbors 

MISCELLANEOUS VERSES 

Old Glory (Song) 

The Grand Army 

Patriot's Day 

"The Eagle of the Seas" 

The Captain's Shave 

The "Little Things" of Life 

"Business" 

The Message of the Rock 

"The Day" 

A Conundrum 

The World's Greatest Need 

The Practical Man 



To the Reader 



The coast of Maine is something besides the 
bleak rocks and flying spray usually pictured, for 
In addition to these there are plenty of "smil- 
ing fields and sunny skies." 

A little more than ten years ago, in order to 
escape the slavery incident to office work in a 
city, I secured a small farm in this beautiful 
locality and the years spent here have convinced 
me that for any one who enjoys work with the 
hands out of doors it is practically impossible to 
find any place in which to live that is more delight- 
ful throughout the year than this Maine coast 
country. 

Nature has apparently been good to it in 
other ways than mere beauty for it is without 
doubt a fine berry growing region. The indica- 
tions of nature all point that way and what hor- 
ticultural experience I have had has convinced me 
that it is only because there is lacking here the 
co-operative enterprise shown by people of the 
West that a far larger number of people do not 
now enjoy this delightful locality as permanent 
residents. 

It is this comparatively unknown side of the 
Maine coast which I have attempted to bring out 
in a few of the following verses. 

H. A. Swanton. 



The Coast of Maine 



Adorned with spruce and fir trees, 

Defying wave and rain, 
Eternal as the mountains 

The iron coast of Maine 
A coast by inlets broken, 

With islands thickly strewn, 
As if one time by giants 

'Twas shattered, carved and hewn. 

The rockweed brown and yellow. 

Like tresses flowing free, 
The Devil's aprons growing 

Down deep beneath the sea, 
Starfish and prickly urchins, 

And wonders by the score. 
Are found upon the ledges, 

That line this rugged shore. 

Those ledges like a sea wall 

Hold Neptune well at bay 
To give Dame Nature chances 

On shore to sport and play, 
And safe behind that sea wall 

The rocky ribs between, 
The little farm homes nestle 

On uplands fair and green. 

The country roads are winding 

O'er hilltops where the view 
Shows distant changing pictures 

Of waters bright and blue. 
And from those rocky hilltops. 

When fall the shades of night. 
Are seen the lighthouse warnings 

As distant points of light. 



Besides the spruce and fir trees 

The pines adorn the land, 
And hold the floral emblem 

Of Maine on every hand. 
In pasture, lane and woodland 

All kinds of berries grow 
And each side of the roadway 

They form a thorny row. 

The softer shades of springtime, 

The summer's darker green, 
"The flaming flags of autumn," 

The winter's white and sheen, 
All set in frames of azure — 

The sky and waters clear 
Make this a lovely country 

Throughout the changing year. 



The Sheepscot^Giants 



When Dorchester Giants in days of old, 
As good Doctor Holmes has so graphically told, 
Were throwing their pudding, so nice and brown, 
All over the suburbs of Boston town, 

Two giants were living not far away 

From Dorchester town and its lovely bay. 

'Twas not very far as a giant scoots — 

But just a few steps of his seven-league boots. 

The first was a hunter and game pursued. 
Through thicket and brushwood his way he hewed. 
His axhead was cut from the living rock — 
You still see the scar there at Hockomock. 

The other by fishing his living gained. 
The whales of the ocean he speared and seined. 
His fish-spear was made from the tallest spruce, 
Trees then were of size to be of some use. 

In peace and in quiet for many a day 
They lived without quarrel or serious fray, 
But one stormy day the two friends fell out. 
No one ever found what 'twas all about. 

But into each other they pitched with whacks. 
And furious blows of both spear and ax. 
The solid earth shook with the fearful sound; 
The land into islands was crushed and ground. 

It seemed that the field which they struggled o'er, 
Our beautiful Maine with its rugged shore, 
Must all be destroyed or that it would be 
Quite trampled and trodden beneath the sea. 



All thanks do we give that a kindly fate 
Has spared that misfortune our dear old State, 
It was but an accident stopped that row, 
Or they to this day might be at it now. 

The hunter at last aimed a fearful blow 
That would have demolished a weaker foe, 
When off from the handle the axhead flew, 
It cut the great staff of the spear in two; 

Then flying along to the sea it cut 
A gash in the land — a tremendous rut. — 
And into the sea. just away from shore, 
It fell, and will lie there forevermore. 

That axhead, most covered by ocean's wave. 
Today bears a lighthouse to warn and save. 
And miles from the scene of that furious fight 
Shines out the bright rays of the Seguin light. 

Today in that furrow the ocean flows; 
Now in and now out with the tide it goes, 
An arm of the sea that is granite walled, — 
The Sheepscot River today 'tis called. 



The Mermaid's Gift 



A story I'll tell you, a sequel it be 
To the Sheepscot Giants, that fight by the sea. 
When the fight it was over and all was calm, 
A peasant crept forth to look over his farm. 

Destruction and ruin were all around, 
The ocean was flowing where once 'twas ground. 
His broad fertile fields were all set on edge, 
Through every meadow there cropped a ledge. 

Conditions the same as are said to be 
In old Ijincoln County beside the sea. 
As slowly and sadly he wandered o'er 
His ruined possessions, far, far from shore, 

He found a mermaid who was stranded quite 
And pitying her in her helpless plight, 
He lifted her uj) and, with kind intent, 
He carried her back to her element. 

"I thank you for saving my life," said she, 
"I soon would have perished so far from the sea. 
You seem in great trouble, I'll gladly do 
Anything that may be in my power for you." 

"So tell me your trouble without reserve. 
What help I can give you, you much deserve." 
He slowly and sorrowfully shook his head. 
"I fear you can't help me," at length he said. 

"My farm it is ruined as you can see, 
Those giants have spoiled it eternally.. 
These ledges and ridges all strewn about. 
Can you, mistress mermaid, smooth them out?" 



"Though I cannot accomplish the work you ask, 
To iron your farm is too great a task, 
Yet I can assist you for all of that, 
There's more than one method of killing a cat." 

"If I cannot flatten your crumpled fields, 
I can make their small pieces increase their yields." 
From her beautiful tresses she pulled a hair. 
And fastened its end to the ledge with care. 

It rooted and grew and like wild-fire spread 
Till evei'y rock, like the mermaid's head. 
Was covered with masses of rich brown hair, 
While the peasant could only stand and stare. 

The mermaiden said to him, "There my friend. 
You'll find fertilizer without any end. 
Just gather and spread that upon your soil, 
And much greater yields will reward your toil." 

With a flip of her tail in the waters green 

She vanished from sight and no more was seen. 

Now this, my dear friends, is the story true 

Of how our rockweed began and grew. 

And science conflrms the mermaid quite, 
For when on the rockweed she turned her light 
Those who in her mysteries dig and mix 
Pronounce its analysis 4 — 1 — 6.* 



*The "fertilizer analysis," meaning in this 
case four-tenths of one per cent, nitrogen, one- 
tenth of one per cent, phosphoric acid, six-tenths 
of one per cent, potash. 



Our Winters 



liccause oiir summer days arc oool, 

The summer people think 
Our winters must be cokl enough 

To drive a man to drink. 
They seem to think that we freeze up 

Just after Labor Day, 
And don't thaw out again until 

The very last of May, 

I only wish they might be here 

This day on which I write, 
They surely'd have to change their minds 

Tt is so mild and bright. 
The sun shines brightly overhead, 

Far brighter than July. 
The air is bracing, crisp and clear, 

Blue are the sea and sky. 

And some days', when I'm chopping 'mongst 

The bushes, trees and leaves, 
I have to take my sweater off. 

And work in my shirt sleeves. 
We have few days throughout the year 

"When 'tis not a pleasure to 
Work out of doors underneath 

Our skys so bright and blue. 

Whene'er the north wind and the snow 

Combine and bring a storm. 
With wood we cut from our own land 

They find us snug and warm. 
And when the storm is over, and 

The sun is out once more. 
No views can equal those we see 

Around our rocky shore. 



Tho lanrlsoapo changfed to crystal is, 

Or is the purest wliite. 
Bedecked with countless precious j^ems 

All flashing in the light. 
And everywhere around you see 

The sparkling waters lie. 
Reflecting from their surface bright 

The changes of the sky. 

With cattle lowing in the barn, 

And hens a cackling 'round. 
Slied filled with wood and cellar full, 

It suits me to the ground. 
If in one place you find you must 

Throughout the year remain. 
There is no place that's half so good 

As is the coast of Maine. 



The First Sea Urchin 



Long years ago when fairies lived 

And walked and flew around. 
On Doggett's Castle. Westport. Maine, 

They had a large playground. 
And there one bright and glorious day, 

'Twas in the early fall. 
T^pon the Feast of Golden Rod 

They met to play football. 

The "Brownies and the Gnomes wei-e lined 

Against each other strong. 
All ready for the game, as they 

Had been in training long. 
The mascot of the Brownies was 

The Dude all dressed with care. 
The Gnomes for theirs had brought along 

A fuzzy teddy bear. 

Titfinia and her maidens all 

Had graced the gay event; 
And one and all from fairyland 

Arrived on pleasure bent. 
The grandstand, alder bushes tall. 

The blearhers. blueberry vines. 
Were packed with fairies, gnomes and elves 

In many hundred lines. 

And when the ball was put in play 

The game was fierce and fast. 
Tremendous cheers arose f"om out 

That throng so large and vast. 
The ball went east, the ball went west, 

A touchdown now and then. 
And in the scrimmages so fierce 

There fell a dozen men. 



And then llio Dudo lio liikod for home, 

Ho ffot liit by the ball. 
The toddy boar who climbod a goal, 

He had a fearful fall. 
But still the game went madly on, 

The score an even thing. 
The backers of each warring side, 

They made the welkin ring. 

At last the ball was rightly placed, 

P)oforo the Brownies'd yield 
Tiieir Uncle Sam would try to kick 

A goal from out the field. 
He gave the ball a fearful kick. 

And yet his aim was true. 
For 'twixt the goal posts o'er the bar 

Away the pigskin flew. 

'Twas going so it did not stop 

Before it reached the edge. 
And plunged from off the playground plain 

Right down the steepest ledge. 
A hemlock tried to stop it. but 

Stuck it so full of spills 
It looked just like a porcupine, 

All covered o'er with quills. 

And down it shot into the sea. 

And very strange to say, 
It sank and fastened to a rock, 

And 'tis there to this day. 
Now this, my children, is the way 

The first sea urchin came. 
An incident which happened at 

A fairy football game. 



The DeviFs Apron 

,{KELP1 



'Tvvas ajjps ago when creation was young. 

And Eve and her husband had dined 
On the fruit of the tree the Creator forbade, 

And Eden had vanished behind; 
And the children of Adam were scattered abroad 

To the uttermost parts of the earth- 
That Satan was pleased with the work he had done, 

And he shouted aloud in his mirth: 
'Hooray! For the Devil and all of his tools. 

For greed and all selfish ambition. 
These tools are so fine that they work like a cliarm, 

And now I can people perdition." 
So over the wide world he started to roam. 

In the finest of spirits and fettle. 
With his tools on his crooked old back and disguised 

\s an innocent worker in metal. 
Whenever he came and wherever he went 

There was nothing but trouble and sorrow 
There was plenty for all of the children of men. 

And never a soul had to borrow. 
One day he had kindled his fire of hate 

In a forge by the shore of the ocean. 
And was pounding away with his hammer of greed 

With the greatest Satanic devotion. 
When all of a sudden a spark of pure love 

Flew into his eye with a sizzle. 
And forced him to make of the mischief he wrought 

An extremely contemptible fizzle. 
He threw down his tools and the language he used 

Was shocking as shocking could be. 
And in his great rage his old apron of leather 

He cast away into the sea. 
And there you will find it is growing today, 

The Devil's old apron of leather. 
And often you'll see it cast up on the shore 

At the end of a spell of bad weather. 



Captain Kidd's Gold 



Yon have all hoard the story of Captain Kidd, 

Of the seas that he sailed and the deeds he did, 

Of the shi!;s that he scuttled and sailors killed, 

And the chests that he buried with treasure filled. 

Yes. remarkable tales of that pirate bold 

For much more than a century have been told; 

Rut I'll tell you a story of Captain Kidd, 

Though it's rather a yarn about treasure hid, 

A great secret revealing that buried gold 

That has never till now to a soul been told. 

I'll tell it to you as it came to me 

As I sat on the ground 'neath a tall spruce tree. 

On that wonderful wooded and rock-bound coast 

Of our beautiful Maine, 'tis her greatest boast. 

As I lazily looked o'er the boundless sea. 
Strange thoughts of the Cabots there came to me. 
And of Gorges and Gosnold and .John Smith, too, 
And the men who had sailed on those waters blue 
In the centuries i)ast. when those ledges gray 
Had appeared to those men as they look today. 
As I thought of those voyagers, far out at sea 
There appeared a small speck and it came towards 

me. 
But as nearer it came, to a sail it grew. 
And at last to a brig with a motley crew. 
A small brig of a model of days long past 
From her low racy hull to her slender mast. 
The strange guns on her deck and the flag she flew 
Proclaimed she was manned by a pirate crew. 
As she let down her anchor, a boat put out 
From her side and the rowers were grim and 

stout. 

Now could I be dreaming or did I see 

A whole boat load of pirates approaching me? 

But I pushed myself back in the covert screen. 

Overcome with surprise as I viewed that scene. 

Not desiring that they should find me there. 

At the place they had chosen to make their lair. 



They pulled in to the beach, ami their boat pulled 

out, 
And they lifted out from it three oak chests stout. 
Two of these chests they buried well up from 

shore. 
From th(> other a si'eat heap of gold did pour, 
And tliey st'^rted dividing among their crowd 
All th-it treasure illgotten. disputing loud. 
The disnute to a quarrel at length arose. 
Till at last on each other they fell with blows; 
And in every direction the gold it flew. 
As hotter nnd hotter the battle grew. 
How it mi<?ht have resulted T ne'er found out. 
A r<M)ort from tlie vessel cut short the bout, 
A lars:e frigate they saw and it proved a sight 
To fill all their souls with a fearful fright. 
So they threw themselves into their boat like mad. 
To ps'-aoe a tight halter some work they had. 
And tliey sailed with all snccd for the open sea, 
Being hotly pursued by their enemy. 

As T went to the plar-c of the buried gold. 

T C'Milfl hardly believe wh«t my eves had told; 

T^"t fi far stranger siQht T ws yet to see. 

'Tw»s as strange ns East Indian jugglery. 

In the midst of the fresh eartli some green shoots 

grew. 
There was one from each chest, they had buried 

two. 
And more wonderful yet. to my creat surprise. 
They p-rew up and they blossomed before my eyes. 
Yes. they blossom<>d and fruited and just you 

think. 
On the first b"sh the frnit Avas as black as ink, 
.Tust exactly the shide of the flag they flew. 
On the othpi' the frnit was a blood red hue. 
'TAvas a blackberry and raspberrv. vou know them 

well ; 
Eut there's more of the story I've yet to tell. 
When I started to hunt f'^^- the scattered gold. 
A most wonderful sierht did my eyes behold. 
"Por the gold in the sr'-ass riq:ht before my eyes 
Slowly sank out of si«-ht and I saw arise 
V diminutive nl^nt with a starry flower, 
.^nd if you wi^! hoU^^-e mp v-ithin the hour 
Some blood colored berries that plantlet bore, 



And they increased until 'twas a good round score. 
This of course was the strawberry the best of all 
Of the berries that ripen from spring to fall. 

Long ago 'twas the custom to always nail, 

For instruction, a moral to every tale. 

Now this custom I'm going to revive once more; 

When you're digging for treasure along our shore, 

Just be sure that Poor Richard's advice you keep. 

And don't dig any more than but just plow deep. 

Here I've told you how berries once came from 

gold, 
Now reverse this proceeding of which I've told, 
For to gold all these berries will quickly turn. 
And a far greater fortune for you they'll earn 
Than the greatest of fortunes that e'er was hid 
On the shores of our state by old Captain Kidd. 

P. S. — You may wonder how 'twas I knew 
That 'twas Kidd who commanded that pirate crew. 
That's as easy, my friend, as an auto skidding, 
For in all but the moral I've just been kidding. 



The Tassel and the Cone 



Where'er the pine tree lifts its shaft, 

O'er mountain, vale or plain, 
It holds aloft the emblem of 

The good old State of Maine. 
Surrounded by eternal green, 

By harps of every tone 
And incense of the woods they grow. 

The tassel and the cone. 

From river bank to mountain top, 

Aroostook to the sea, 
You find them waving everywhere 

In fairest greenery. 
No tender hothouse growth are they. 

They're hardy as a stone. 
They hold the seeds of future wealth 

The tassel and the cone. 

The cone bends downward to the earth, 

And scatters seeds abroad. 
The tassel stands erect and points 

Its fingers up to God. 
By patient work and vision strong 

True progress comes alone, 
A fitting emblem for our State, 

The tassel and the cone. 



Westport 



A great big island like a spoon, 
With rocky shores and ledges, 

With smiling fields and sunny skies, 
And blue waves 'round its edges. 

Long years ago the fish was king, 

The sacred cod of fable, 
And Westport skippers caught their fares 

On Georges and on Sable. 

Those days are gone, the schooners, too, 
The captains few remember. 

This rugged business of the past 
Is like a dying ember. 

But Mother Nature speaking loud, 
In accents strong and strident, 

Commands the use of plow and hoe 
Instead of Neptune's trident. 

The juicy berries growing wild, 
She shows with hand unerring 

To be the crop to cultivate, 
And bids us all be stirring. 

Upon the throne of old King Cod, 
AVhere once he reigned serene, 

Now sits — or sets— our barnyard friend, 
And Biddy reigns as queen. 

But whether fins or feathers reign, 

Or berries are our po'tion, 
There is no place to farm and live 

Like Westport by the ocean. 



Waterlogged 



Now listen friends. I'll tell to you 

A story of steamboating, 
Of the two ways a steamboat liue 

Is said to be afloating. 

Some years ago a New York crowd 

Of frenzied finaneierers, 
Bought up our steamboat lines and sold 

Their stock to wooly shearers. 

They wanted every boat in sight, 

For sliearing or to barber, 
And tried to get possession of 

Our little Winter Harbor. 

"No! I'll not sell," the cai)tain said, 

•"You go to Baalzepher!"* 
''All right." says they, "we'll fix it so 

You'll need your warmest reefer." 

They put a boat upon his route, 

And tried to run him badly, 
But in their calculations they 

Got left extremely sadly. 

The Winter Harbor scooped the cream 

Of all the transportation. 
Their boat could hardly get for them 

The least consideration. 

They dropi)ed a thousand bucks or so 
In one short boating season, 

And in disgust, gave up the fight. 
They surely had good reason. 
*An;ient Hebrew word meaning New York. 



A few years later when the war 
Hit hard upon the nation, 

Expenses soared and crowded them 
Because of stock inflation. 

Up went their rates so high that folks 
Used other means of travel. 

This put their line upon the blink 
Beyond the smallest cavil. 

And then the Winter Harbor scooped 
Their mail and all expressing. 

So thev tied up their boats and thus 
A licking are confessing. 

Now if you want a steamboat line 
To run just as it oughter, 

It's best to float it on the brine, 
Not on financial water. 



The Star Fish and Blueberry 



In Paradise Lost we are told of the war 
That was waged in the heavens above 

P>y the demons of darkness, of evil and hate 
On the angels of goodness and love. 

But here now is a part of the story o'erlooked 

By the famous blind poet of old, 

And although many years have elapsed since he 
wrote, 

It has not till the present been told. 

The great conflict was waged with such fury and 
might, 

And such forces of evil employed. 

That the very foundations of heaven did shake 

Till it seemed they'd be surely destroyed. 

At the height of the struggle the quake was so 
great 

That the stars from the firmament fell. 

And the bright azure sky being ground to small 
bits 

Fell in showers o'er hillside and dell. 

Now today at low tide you will see on the rocks 
All the stars that fell into the sea. 

While ashore In the shape of a berry you'll find 
The blue sky scattered over the lea. 



Farmer John's 
Philosophy 



Farmer John s Cause for Thanksgiving 



Farmer John took off his coat. — 
His Sunday meeting best, — 

And put it carefully away, 
Together with his vest; 

And then he pulled his rocking-chair 

Tip closer to the stove, 
And to his better half he said: 

"Now, Mother, this, by Jove! 

"Is what you might call living with 
Some comfort, good and strong, 

Instead of wearing out your life 
As do that city throng. 

"The Smiths, our summer boarder friends, 
Were kind as they could be, 

And took me almost .everywhere 
The city sights to see. 

"To see it once it wan't so bad. 

But. move down there to stay? 
I would not do it — no not for 

A million plunks a day. 

"The station at the city is 

As big's our pasture quite 
More people there were tearing 'round 

With all their main and might 

"Than you will find in our whole town. 

And I was some put out 
Till Mr. Smith came through the throng 

And piloted me out. 

"He took me in a taxi'Cab 

'Round through the streets, and say! 
My hair it fairly stood on end> 

I thought 'twas my last day. 



"At last we stopped before a house 

As big as our whole lot. 
I looked at it and said to Smith: 

"This is some house you've got." 

"He started up some winding stairs 
I followed though rheumatic- : 

I surely thought that he must live 
Away up in the attic. 

"And sure enough they only had 

A few rooms, — suite they railed it,- 

Right underneath the very roof. 
And brick and mortar walled it. 

"They did not have a square foot of 
The earth our Maker gave us. 

From such a house I'll always pray. 
Oh, may the good Lord save us! 

"Of God's good sunlight every day 

By them a pile is wasted; 
They don't get up till eight o'clock. 

Their breakfast hardly tasted 

"When Smith he dashes for his car, 

And to his office care 
He rides packed like a sardine in 

The vilest kind of air. 

"He sits all day in a close room 

Unon an office stool. 
A doing what he's told to do 

Just like a living tool. 

"When'er the boss comes to his seat 
He doesn't know but what 

He'll learn that he is fired, just 
Like any other mutt. 

"He lunches at some restaurant, 

So sanitary that 
There is no flavor in the food 

'Tis absolutely flat. 



"And then at night to reach his home 

He joins a football rush, 
And in a car jammed to the doors 

He has his way to crush. 

"His supper, — dinner as 'tis called, — 
Like breakfast then is bolted, 

And back to town, with family 
He once again is jolted. 

'"There in a darkened room they sit 
And watch a picture wiggle. 

Or watch some vaudeville artist 
Attempt to make them giggle. 

"And then they have a midnight lunch, 
'Twould spoil the best digestion. 

And how so many doctors live 
Is now no more a question. 

"Then once again the trolley car, 
Again the sardine squeezing. 

Again the much used impure air 
Sets everybody wheezing. 

"With such a round of life as that, 

Now is it any wonder 
That they must have a summer's rest, 

Or they would sure go under? 

"Then thank the Lord for country life 
The finest thing he's giving. 

The queerest part of city life 
Is that they call it living." 



Farmer John on the Cost of Living 



Folks si"<^>wl about the cost to live, 
Said Farmer John one day, 

The most of folks, they like to dance, 
But hate like time to pay. 

They dislike working with their hands, 

Too many act like snobs. 
The only work they care to do 

Are the white collar jobs. 

Now a Avhite collar job. my friend, 

May be important quite 
But frequently it only is 

On work a parasite. 

For nothing in this world of ours. 
Throughout its many lands. 

Has ever been produced by man 
Except by work with hands. 

Folks growl about the cost of milk, 

But yet without a jar 
They'll peel off several hundred bucks 

Just for a motor car. 

They kick like sixty when they pay 
The present price for spuds, 

But see the money that they waste 
On gorgeous hats and duds. 

Folks want to live in cities where 

The theatres are galore. 
And yet they wonder why it is 

That living prices soar. 

Now city life it may be fine. 

But here you'll find the rub. 
No city has there been devised 

Where they can raise their grub. 



Our country folks aro just, as bad. 

Their children, more's the pity, 
Are taught that to be anything 

They must go to the city. 

And get a job on salary 

That's clean, genteel and proper 
Where they'll not have to wear old clothes 

As do their Ma and Popper. 

They say there's nothing here to do 

For any girl but teach. 
They mean, and keep her hands as white 

As does a city peach. 

'Tis thought more honorable to sit 

In office chair supreme. 
To let the other fellow milk 

And then to skim the cream. 

For hands 'tis thought are only made 

To take the money in. 
To get them soiled in other ways 

Is reckoned quite a sin. 

But God He made our hands that we 
Might help and service bring. 

And "making money only, is 
Not making anything." 



Farmer John Gets "Het Up. 



"Why! what's the matter Farmer John?" 

The postman said, "By gum 
You look as if you'd bite a nail, 

You are so grim and glum." 

"Well, Jerry, something just occurred 

To rile me up a mite. 
Although I know that to get mad 

Is hardly kind or right. 

"I s'pose the feeling I should have 

Is rather one of pity. 
For those who have as little sense 

As some folks from the city. 

"Poor folks. I s'pose the Lord gives them 

What brains they really need. 
They can't need much when 'tis us folks 

Produce their clothes and feed. 

"You know how things have been this year, 

That what we have to buy, 
Our fertilizer, tools and such 

Are everlasting high. 

"But when we come to sell our stuff 

The money isn't there. 
Some how the value's disappeared, 

And vanished in thin air. 

"Well, yesterday, my brother Charles, 

He motored up to pay 
The visit he had promised long 

He'd make some future day. 

"His wife, of course, she came along 
And you should hear her talk, 

You'd think that heaven was no place 
Beside her dear New York. 



"Today at dinner 'twas she made 
The break that riled me quite, 

For Mother'd laid herself right out 
And things were out of sight. 

"A chicken dinner 'twas we had, 

It surely was a dream, 
Whi^h ended with a goodly bowl 

Of strawberries and cream. 

"When we had finished sister passed 

To us this compliment: 
'What a fine meal and only think 

It never cost a cent." 

" 'It never cost a cent!' By gum! 

That's just how much they know. 
If they'd try farming for a spell 

Perhaps they'd find it so." 



Farmer John on Neighbors 



Furnier John pushod up his spers, 

And laid his paper by. 
And Mother watched expectantly 

The twinkle in his eye. 

"Ef folks would only learn." he said, 

"That it is better to 
Just keep up with, not get ahead 

Of neighbors, I tell you 

''That it would quickly change things 'round, 

And banish all our fears. 
And smooth our troubles out complete 

In this old vale of tears. 

"For instance now. there's neighbor Jones, 

I have to look right smart 
To keep abrejist of what he'll do 

To act a neighbor's part. 

"He helped me when I killed the pig 

And yet would take no pay. 
So when 'twas cured I sent a ham 

To him the other day. 

"Now he dropped in this afternoon, 

And 'tis my firm belief 
He has retaliated with 

Nigh half a side of beef. 

"The move of course is up to me, 

For it would never do 
To let a neighbor keep ahead 

In such a race with you. 

"Upon the other hand there's — well 

I just won't give his name. 
You know as well as I do who 

I'm meaning just the same, 



"He always makes it his great boast 

He's sharp as any blade, 
And no one ever gets ahead 

Of him in any trade. 

"You have to keep an eye on him, 
For if your back was turned 

He'd take the buckle off your vest 
And think 'twas fairly earned. 

"I'm sure there'd be for all of us 
Enough and some to spare, 

If some few did not grab and get 
A sight more than their share. 

"To keep up with, not get ahead, 

Is pleasanter by far. 
You'll find it makes life run with less 

Of friction and of jar. 

"Our folks have surely got to learn, 
As they have in the West, 

To get your living with, not from. 
Your neighbor is the best." 




The Country Roads are Winding 



Miscellaneous 

Verses 



Old Glory 

Air "Marching Through Georgia.' 



Cheer the banner of our land, the banner of the 

free, 
Symbol of the land we love, of home and liberty, 
("lieer the flag of freedom, yes, and give it three 

times three. 
Cheer, then three cheers for Old Glory. 

Chorus: 
Hurrah! Hurrah! Our starry banner true. 
Hurrah Hurrah! The red and white and blue. 
To the flag of freedom we will yield allegiance due. 
Cheer, then three cheers for Old Glory. 

Cheer the banner that we love, our flag so fair 

and brave. 
Which our noble Washington this favored nation 

gave, 
And our martyred Lincoln poured his life's blood 

out to save. 
Cheer, then three cheers for Old Glory. 

Chorus: 

When the goddess Liberty assumed the battle 

field, 
Then she chose the stars and stripes to be her 

flag and shield. 
And the goddess Victory makes all opponents 

yield. 
Cheer, then three cheers for Old Glory. 

Chorus: 

Thus a host of conquerors we'll never need to 

fear, 
If within our native land corrupters disappear. 
Gaining at Old Glory's cost is gaining very dear. 
Cheer, then three cheers for Old Glory. 

Chorus: 



For the cause of righteousness and freedom in 
the world, 

And till all the tyrants of mankind are downward 
hurled, 

May the emblem of our land be everywhere un- 
furled. 

Cheer, then three cheers for Old Glory. 

Chorus: 
Hurrah! Hurrah! Our starry banner true. 
Hurrah! Hurrah! The red and white and blue. 
To the God of righteousness it yields allegiance 

due. 
(^heer, then three cheers for Old Glory. 



The Grand Army 



Their ranks with us are thinning fast, 
Their camp above it grows, 

And for the old Grand Army Boys 
The final bugle blows. 

Their work on earth 'twas nobly done- 

For in her hour of need 
They answered to their country's call 

To crush secession's creed. 

Above all things that men hold dear 
Their country well they placed, 

And in a four years' bloody war 
Her foes in battle faced. 

This nation freed by Washington 
They bravely helped to save; 

To l^incoln's hand they gave the might 
To free the negro slave. 

And if we would our country serve 
This day, with like renown. 

We must take up the labors that 
Their hands are laying down. 

And though our conflict may not be 
With powder and with steel, 

A mighty serpent we must crush 
Beneath an iron heel. 

Of all the deadly foes that on 

A nation's vitals feed 
The deadliest by far is a 
Corrupting, sordid greed. 

And when this generation gives 

Its place unto a new. 
May it have served as faithfully 

As that whi( h wore the blue. 

And though the old Grand Army be 

Forever passed and gone, 
Its spirit it will live for aye, — 

'Tis ever marching on. 



Patriot's Day 



This day we celebrate the deeds 

Our fathers did of old, 
When on the green at Lexington 

They flung their challenge bold 
At England, greatest of the powers, — 

The Mistress of the seas — 
And with their life's blood bought for us 

Our cherished liberties. 
"Don't fire boys unless attacked. 

Don't give the first offense, 
But if a war is what they want 

Then let it here commence." 
Thus spake the gallant Parker then 

Upon that fateful morn. 
And in the war which there began 

The land we love was born. 
Their duty, though it cost their lives, 

Full well they did it then, 
And in the hall of deathless fame 

Is carved "The Minute Men." 



The Eagle of the Seas 

(1905) 



What! Strii)i)e(l of si)ars and canvas? 

Xo more to sail the seas? 
TIic bravest ship that ever flung 

Old Glory to the breeze. 
Another bear her honored name, 

While she dismantled lies? 
Oh God forbid that she should make 

So great a sacrifice. 
Have we today forgot her deeds 

That to our triumph led? 
Is usefulness the only test? 

Is sentiment all dead? 
Shame to our country in her hour 

Of peace and wealth and ease 
To so neglect this gallant ship, 

Once monarch of the seas. 
Though all her timbers be renewed 

In spirit still is there 
The ship that fought in "eighteen-twelve," 

And sank the "Guierriere." 
As England guards her "Victory" 

"Old Ironsides" should be 
Forever kept as when she fought 

For freedom on the sea. 
Give her once more her snow white sails. 

Replace those stately spars. 
Could fitter monument be raised 

To the glory of our tars? 



The Captain s Shave 



Now we are mobilizing things, 

Men and munitions, too. 
This story of the days long past. 

It should appeal to you. 
'Twas in the town of Hollis in 

The good old Granite State 
These circumstances happened, which 

To you I'll now relate. 



Good Farmer Worcester pushed his chair 

Back from the dinner table. 
And to his better half he said, 

"Now Hepsy. I'll be able 
To take a shave before those boys 

Have finished off their dinner. 
Their legs are hollow clear way down 

As sure as I'm a sinner." 



He erot his shaving tackle out 

His face he lathered fully. 
And put an edge onto his blade 

Today he'd called it bully. 
From one side of his face he scraped 

With care the creamy coating. 
While Samuel the youngest watched 

His every movement noting. 



He srave his keen blade a few strokes 

Upon a strip of hide. Sir, 
Then to the looking glass he turned 

To shave the other side. Sir. 
But hark! What mean those hoof beats fast. 

Those shouts and great hallooing 
Some one is in a fearful rush 

There's sure some mischief brewing. 



John Boyington was charging up 

The road like sixty-seven. 
As if pursued by the Old Boy 

Whose home is not in heaven. 
He stopped his horse right at the door, 

And called once and again, Sir, 
"The regulars are coming out 

And killing all our men," Sir. 

Then. Farmer Worcester made a dash, 

As fast as he was able, 
And in the twinkling of an eye 

His horse was out the stable, 
All saddled and he on it jumped, 

Nor stopped to finish shaving 
For who would stop for trifles, when 

His country needed saving. 

With lather on one-half his face. 

The other clean and bright, Sir, 
He rode to rouse the neighbors all 

To lead them to the fight. Sir, 
And other messengers went off 

To 'rouse the country people 
And frantically the sexton pulled 

The bell rope in the steeple. 

Such work they did that afternoon 

Is seldom ever seen. Sir, 
And ninety-tw^o good sturdy men, 

Assembled on the green. Sir, 
Each with a musket tried and true, 

A horn and pound of powder, 
And twenty bullets in a pouch 

To help them argue louder. 

And off they marched to Cambridge town. 

With not a single cipher. 
With Captain Worcester at their head. 

His oldest boy as fifer. 
The tune to which they all kept step, 

Those men so brave and handy. 
Was our first patriotic air, 

Old Yankee Doodle Dandy. 



yf)iiVo hoard oft tiinos about thR men 

Who'd start upon tho minute 
In answer to their conntry's call 

For all that e'er was in it, 
But here was one who at the call 

Responded on the seoond. 
Sueh spirit as was manifest 

Must surely well be reckoned. 

Another Worcester son there was, 

A fhip of the old block. Sir. 
A slacker it was hard to find 

Tn that old Yankee stock. Sir. 
This youngster when but sixteen was 

Too short to join the army, 
So he put pebbles in his boots 

And he passed fair and balmy. 

These were the ki'^d of men who won 

Our cherished freedom for us. 
For fiiprn thank Ood when e'er you see 

Old Glory wax'in*:: o'er us. 
I've told you of the Tantain's Shave, 

Here just as thins^s befell it. 
But if 'twas ever finished. Avhy 

The history does not tell it. 



The above verses relate actual occurrences. 
The hero was Captain Noah Worcester of Hollis. 
X. H.. who served through the early days of the 
Revolution. His oldest son, also named Noah, 
was a fifer in the army, and his second son. Jesse, 
was so afraid that he was too short to be accepted 
for enlistment that he put pebbles in his boots 
to increase his height. 



The "Little Things" of Life 



The "little things" of life were all 
That seemed to come her way, 

The "petty cares" of household work 
Were hers from day to day. 

The meals to get, the beds to make, 

The clothing to repair. 
The training of some little minds, 

These were her constant care. 

The years went by, one of those minds 

Became a giant great. 
This country freed, this nation formed. 

And he chief magistrate. 

His tribute to her patient toil, — 

Could greater be another? 
"All that I ever have become 

I owe unto my mother." 



Business' 



Come! Bow to the sod tlmt's worshiped 

By civilization's throne:! 
Come! Shout in his praise and glory. 

And pledge him with wine and song! 

Come! Bring to him sacrifices. 

And here on his altar high 
Give him of your choicest treasures. 

The souls he decrees must die. 

Although he demand your loved ones. 

Your children, perhaps your wife, 
Although as a slave you serve him, 

Some day to lay dowm your life, 

Bow ye to this mighty image! 

For though it is made of clay. 
Bright golden appears this monster. 

This god of the present day. 

This vision is told in Daniel. 

A stone never hewn by hand 
Apparently smote an image 

And ground it to chaff and sand. 

'Tis thus that the love of service, — 
Although at some distant day, — 

Will smite and destroy our Moloch, 
Thus ending his fearful sway. 

And just as the stone in vision 

Grew till it filled the land. 
Just so must the love of service 

Grow in each heart and hand. 



The Message of the Rock 



**I, the rock of Plymouth, speak" 

Ye people list to me, 
You children of that I'ilgrim band. 

The first to cross the sea. 

But three short centuries ago 
In search of freedom's shrine 

Your fathers left their sheltered homes 
And braved the stormy brine. 

Here in a wilderness they sought 

Freedom to worship God. 
As through a gateway to their hopes 

Their feet my surface trod. 

Through peril, pain, privation, death, 
They won the prize they sought 

To you a legacy they left, 

That boon so dearly bought. 

In this broad land 'neatli freedom's flag. 
Where wealth and comforts team, 

The God they sought has prospered you 
Beyond their wildest dream. 

Take heed that in your hour of wealth, 

Prosperity and might. 
That you forget not Him who is 

The God of Truth and Right. 

Go! Take your Bible from its shelf, 

And brush the dust away, 
And read how Israel was served 

In that far distant day. 

Because they worshiped other gods, 

To Baal bowed the knee. 
Their nation was destroyed and led 

Into captivity. 

Is God today in all your hearts? 

Do you his laws observe? 
Is it your Saviour Jesus Christ, 

Or Mammon, that you serve? 



'The Day^ 



Some day will the warring nations cease 

To strive for unrighteous gain. 
Some day they will understand that peace 

Is better than others' pain. 
The people of all the earth will then 

Respect each the other's place. 
They'll see all the rights of other men 

With light from the Saviour's face. 

Some day will all swords to plowshares be made, 

All spears into pruning hooks. 
Some day will the warlike spirit fade, 

And vanish all angry looks. 
For promised it was in days of old 

That evil and war should cease 
The prophets of God have long foretold 

The days of unending peace. 

Yes, come will that day we've looked for long, 

When peace will to earth descend, 
When love and goodwill will banish wrop:g, 

And joy it will never end. 
The dawn of that day we may expect, 

'Tis promised by Him above, 
'Twill come when the hearts of all reflect 

The warmth of the Saviour's love. 



A Conundrum 



What is it that everyone wants that they 
May have for their own all the live long day? 
What is it that everyone seeks, — yet mind, 
Though they may seek long, they will never find? 
What is it you find when you little think. 
It may be right close and you on its brink? 
What is it that verily strange to say 
You may not possess yet can give away? 
What is it that very much stranger yet 
The more that you give, why the more you'll get? 
AVhat is it — now honestly can't you guess 
This curious thing — Why it's happiness. 



The World's Greatest Need 



How soon the power of Jesus' love 
Would free the world from sin, 

If into every human heart 
That love could enter in. 

Could enter in and find a home 
From which to spread abroad. 

'Twould bring to earth from heaven above 
The kingdom of the Lord. 

"Man's inhumanity to man," 

No more on earth could live. 
If but a fraction of his love 

We would to others give. 

1 

Oh, lead us, Lord, that we may strive 

To give to those around 
A little of the love You give 

Your creatures without bound. 



The Practical Man 



'Twas long, long ago, so I understand, 

Two brothers there dwelt in an eastern land. 

The elder, a farmer who by his toil 

Obtained all his living from off the soil. 

A "practical man" he'd be called today, 

So careful and prudent in every way, 

And though great abundance quite filled his store, 

He always was striving for more and more. 

The younger a herdsman whose thoughts were 

deep. 
His living he gained by the care of sheep, 
A dreamer of dreams, just an idealist, 
Who gave little thought how he should subsist; 
Rut scattered around him each day by day, 
To people he passed on his onward way. 
Good cheer and great courage and clothes and 

food. 
What help he could render for need or mood. 
To worship Jehovah one day they came. 
And each brought a sacrifice in his name. 
The elder said— having that practical turn, — 
"Why should I good food on an altar burn?" 
And brought as his offering, grain too old. 
And fruit wholly spoiled by the rot and mould. 
The younger one said with his face ashine, 
"Great Father, whatever I have 'tis thine." 
And so as an offering from his stock. 
He brought the best lambs of his little flock. 
Each placed on an altar the gifts he brought. 
And each of his Maker a blessing sought. 
The Lord was well pleased with the gift of love. 
And blessings fell on it from heaven above, 
But no blessing came to the worthless gift 
Of the practical giver whose god was thrift. 



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